Vespertine
by xtwilightzx
Summary: End of R2 Spoilers. Sometimes, Suzaku wondered how Lelouch breathed in his mask and helmet. It was confining, almost claustrophobic; worse than a noose around his throat. SuzakuLelouch


**Vespertine**

Sometimes, Suzaku wondered how Lelouch breathed in his mask and helmet. It was confining, almost claustrophobic; worse than a noose around his throat.

_Code Geass is too epic for me to own, and therefore belongs to Sunrise. More or less._

**AN:** **BIG GIANT SPOILERS FOR R2 TURN 25**. You've been warned. Adding to the piles of fic sprung up after the end of R2. Also, this is only as gay as the boys are in the anime itself (which is… plenty for me to work with).

_verpestine_: a term used in reference to phenomena observed during the evening hours.

**start**

It wasn't as if he hadn't expected it.

Walking into Lelouch's - Zero's - rooms at the Black Knight headquarters that evening was nothing short of a blow to the system. Suzaku had never been there, of course, but there was no mistaking that this was Lelouch's room; even though the man was careful not to leave a single identifying trace, the marks were there to be read - if one knew Lelouch like Suzaku did.

Pristine, almost obsessive neatness: not a thing out of place. Lelouch always wanted power, and he obtained it in part through control over his environment. The color choices: practical, semi-dark colors, with a discreet touch of elegance in the silken covers, the sleek leather couches.

The king chess piece, black and regal, positioned upright on the briefing table.

Suzaku knew – the pain was his burden to carry. He'd been carrying around guilt for so long that a little extra blood on his hands shouldn't matter, right?

Right?

--

It wasn't as if he hadn't killed before, either.

No one should ever have to compare which was worse: killing one's father, against killing one's best friend.

What was far worse, Suzaku realized, was knowing deep down, in some intangible dark sense, that killing Lelouch felt a more atrocious act than killing his father.

"Zero-sama," the Black Knight chimed, and Suzaku flinched. She was older than Kallen – older than _him_ – but her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes bright with restored pride and reverence. She looked younger than Suzaku felt.

"You're dismissed," Suzaku said gruffly, his voice falling lower in an attempt to project Lelouch's authoritative voice. "Please. Spend time with the comrades we have just freed."

He felt her eyes gravitate and fixate on the blood-stained portion of his mask. Her head bobbled up and down like a little nodding toy, for a moment, Suzaku felt an irrational urge to lash out at her.

She had no right to be so animate, so carefree and _alive_ when Nunnally was still crying in her drug enforced-sleep, while Lelouch lay dead and unseeing for the rest of time.

Sometimes, Suzaku wondered how Lelouch breathed in his mask and helmet. It was confining, almost claustrophobic; worse than a noose around his throat.

"Go," he barked, and swept off towards Zero's private bedroom, the cloak rustling in his wake like a hundred rasping bones dragged along behind him.

--

Relief was like balm against a wound when Suzaku finally had the privacy to withdraw that helmet.

He almost, _almost_ threw it at the wall, but his eyes caught upon the bloody streak and he couldn't look away. Five smears, clawing vertically downwards in a gradual fade were imprinted there. The blood had dried to a rusty-brown.

Suzaku placed his hands over that mark, his fingers fitting into the blood prints like a key to a lock. He had larger hands than Lelouch. Lelouch possessed aristocratic hands, long-fingered and slim, far suited to the pen than sword.

He couldn't quite bring himself to lie on the bed, so he collapsed beside it instead, back against the frame, legs tucked up against his chest like a child.

His collar ruffled and something flashed across Suzaku's senses. He turned his head, seeking it - there it was. A scent, a little musky but not unpleasant, and something like berries—

Like the shampoo Shirley forced on Lelouch back during their student council days. Like Lelouch himself.

Suzaku hoisted himself up and ripped the cloak from his shoulders, a violent movement that tangled his arms and unbalanced him onto the bed. He lay breathless for one long moment, remembering the feeling of fabric and muscle giving way so smoothly before steel, as warm red bloomed across those white imperial robes. He didn't feel anything else – not the words spoken in gasps against his shoulder, nor the hair brushing against his neck.

Only that scent, curling around him like a familiar skin.

Unfair. Unfair. Death meant someone was gone from your life. They shouldn't linger in the shadows falling from the window blinds, or hide stealthily in the fragrance of a summer's day. Zero's cloak was half draped over him, a pool of warmth contrasted by cold air, and that reminded him of childhood days, of staying out in the shed and falling asleep next to each other, the warmth of another body and an arm carelessly flung across his chest grounding him to a time of happiness.

_I will destroy the world and recreate it_.

Suzaku curled carefully around the helmet, cradled it securely to his chest, and closed his eyes.

--

He woke up the next day, and was by Nunnally's side as her blue eyes opened, blissfully clear and unknowing for one moment before realization and tears flooded into them.

He kept his mask on, stayed a discreet distance away, his cloak wrapped around him like a physical shield. The only sign of familiarity he granted her was a quick touch to the back of her head, and a gloved thumb across her cheeks to smear the tears away.

He stayed by Nunnally's side as long as he could from that day onwards. In between the meetings, the negotiations, the sessions with the Order of Black Knights, he always found a moment to steal to her side, guarding and guiding her the way Lelouch always had and, through Zero, always will. He was her silent guardian, devoting himself to her cause. His life was no longer his own, overshadowed by the expectations of millions, by the wish of one.

The blood-stained helmet lay on the table beside the bed back in the – _now his_ – bedroom, the cloak a dark pool amongst the white sheets.

**end**

**AN:** Suzaku will be Zero everyday from now on. But in the evening, when night falls and the mask comes off… who knows what he thinks, feels or does?

Con/crit and feedback is much beloved, as always.


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